Stay With Me
by Acton1842
Summary: Erik has a daughter and a wife. But happiness never lasts...
1. Chapter 1

Stay with me

**A/N: this is a little one shot that takes place many years after the opera burnt. Erik's wife lies dying as his daughter sits over them. I didn't intend for the father/ daughter relationship to appear as cold as it does, it just kinda happened. I've been thinking about writing more about little Celeste. Let me know what you think... **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Erik. Sucks, I know.**

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The little blonde child nestled in closer to her mother and choked back the tears.

"Mama will be well soon" the child insisted to no one in particular

"Celeste" Mama spoke softly, "do you remember what your Papa told you about the angels?"

The child nodded her pretty little head

"When I am in heaven child, I will send you your very own angel of music"

"I don't want an angel of music. I have Papa and you. I do not need an angel. I do not want an angel!"

"Celeste, listen to me, listen to your mama. I am going to go an sing with the angels"

"But I want you to stay here"

"I'll always be here" Mama put her hand on her daughters heart, "and here" she gestured to the child's fingers, "I live through your beautiful music, because I love you always, never forget that. Keep playing child and I'll always be with you"

There was a brief pause in which mama stroked her child's golden tresses and the child struggled to hold back her tears.

"Go fetch your violin Celeste," mama requested, "I want you to play me to sleep"

Celeste ran off to her room to obliged and fetched the violin form under he pillow. She took a moment to wipe any traces of tears form her eyes. She was going to be a brave girl for her parents.

When she got back to her parents room Celeste saw that her Papa had taken up his usual spot at she side of the bed. They where talking oh so quietly and her father's eyes where full of so many emotions it scared her.

She returned to her place on the bed, sitting cross legged beside her mother. She knew what to play without being asked. She took up a slow Swedish air that was popular in their little house hold. He mama sang along softly, about ice swept landscapes and vast, rolling hill. About having to leave and being sorry, but promising to return.

There was a long instrumental that the child played beautify. It always gave her mother the greatest possible joy to sit and listen to her. Papa lent in close to her ear and sung the sweet melody in his still wonderful voice. Mama smiled at her child and closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. The child closes her eyes to, playing softly and sweetly, even her father said so. She played and played, letting the beautiful music detract from the aching tragedy of the scene.

When little Celeste opened her eyes, her Papa's where full of tears. She looked at her mother and realised the steady rise and fall of her chest had stopped.

Celeste stopped playing

"Finish the song Celeste" her father muttered

"But Papa"

"I said finish it!"

Celeste took up the melody and her father sung. By the time they stopped Mama hadn't started breathing again. Her hands where cold.

The three of them where silent, apart form the steady reverberations of Celeste's violin, hanging in the air like her mother's perfume. Very quietly, Papa began to let the tears flow.

Celeste sidled silently form the bed, not quite sure what to do. Her father gave her no answer to this, he simply collapsed into deep sobs over his wife's precious, cold body. He did not notice his daughter move away, nor did he seem to care. His wife, his precious wife, had left him all alone.

Celeste walked to her room more sorrowful than she had ever imaged possible in her few years on the earth. When she entered her room she closed the door tightly and covered her ears, trying to shut out her Papa's wails of grief. When that didn't work she went over to her bed and pulled off the bead covers. Settling herself neatly in the corner of her room she threw the covers over her head to shut out the noise.

It was only then that she allowed herself to cry

It was a long time before the tears subsided enough for her to think. And even then all she could think about was her Mama. Her last words swam round the child's head.

"_I live through your beautiful music... Keep playing child and I'll always be with you_"

Celeste's hands brushed against the strings of her violin as she moved it form under her arm. For reasons she wasn't quite sure she began to strum a tuneless melody.

"_stay with me, stay with me"_ the child sang along. "_Stay with me, stay with me"_ in the other room her Papa continued to wail with sorrow. It was all getting to much for the little child, she wanted her mother back so badly, _"stay with me"_. She wanted to be held tightly and be told everything was going to be aright.

"_Stay with me. Stay with me_" she wanted to be told she was loved. She didn't want to be alone.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, still strumming.

"_Stay with me"

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**Ah, how cheasy is that ending? I don't want to beg for reviews so i will say simpley this; i could realy use some feedback.. (HINT) So two questions:**

**1) should i write more about Celeste?  
2) who is Mama? cause i think you will find that i naver actualy mention her name.. hehehe**

**Loves, L x**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N hey, me again. I know I said that his was a one shot. But then questions started to be asked so I thought I'd throw in this chapter to clear things up a little (but, if I'm honest it might also confuse you more. It depends on how you look at it). I'm typing this as I've just come out of hospital, I'm quite drugged up and so spelling and grammar mistakes may be rife. I truly apologise._

_Interesting fact- think you know the name Gailhard? He's from the novel and is mentioned as being the manger of the opera during the same of Leroux's research. He makes quite a prominent appearance in my other fic 'Unrequited' and him and Erik struck such a good chord that I simply had to write more! Happy reading, l x_

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Pedro Gailhard- musician, conductor and the new manager of The Opera Garnier looked at the man before him. For once he was lost for words. The man, who was sitting on the opposite side of a table strewn with papers, held back tears and looked at the sleeping child in his arms.

"Erik I..." Gailhard managed to say, the other man did not filch. The child in arms coughed in her sleep. Though it wasn't loud the cough sounded like death itself.

"Say something" Gailhard begged after another minute's stony silence.

"She'll die like her mother" was all that Erik said. His voice was totally devoid of emotion; it was like he was reading a newspaper article.

The fact shocked Gailhard, "surely you can do something!"

"I couldn't save the woman I love. I can not save her child"

"Celeste is your child too!" Gailhard argued

"No she isn't. How could anything so perfect be my child" this time he sobbed.

Gailhard shook his head. The men had known each other for quite sometime. Gailhard had once been in the orchestra for the old Paris Opera. One day, a rich count was tipped of to Gailhard's particular talents and the boy of fourteen had found himself being propelled across the world and hailed as the new rising star. By twenty he had his own orchestra, by thirty he had a small fortune and by forty he had bought his own Opera.

Erik and Pedro's paths had crossed before, and when he took over the Opera some three months ago they had struck up a very good working arrangement. Gailhard had also become quite friendly with the rest of Erik's family. That was, until his wife died, exactly two weeks ago to this date.

Gailhard had seen Erik in many a state, and although he had been present at the funeral, this was the first time Erik and he had spoken properly. Gailhard always had a deep affection for Erik's nine-year-old daughter, Celeste. He was more like an uncle to her. And now his adoptive nice lay dying in her father's arms...

"She is your daughter, never doubt that Erik." Gailhard decided to use his new found courage, "What would your wife think of you?"

"You'll speak nothing of…" Erik's temper suddenly flared

"The only reason you're angry is because I am right!"

Another deathly cough from Celeste signalled the beginning of another stony silence.

"Fight for her Erik"

"I fought for my wife, what good did it do me?"

"Erik. People, loved ones die. It's a fact of life." Gailhard said calmly, "But look at her Erik. You are holding a living-breathing piece of your wife in your arms. Why let that slip away? Don't give up now."

Erik let a tear fall silently. Inside he was struggling with himself. Although he hadn't admitted it to himself, part of him wished his child to die. Then she wouldn't have to grow up with a monster for a father. He couldn't raise a child without his wife.

"Giry" Gailhard said, predicting Erik's worries, "Giry will always be there to help you"

"You really think so?"

"I know so." Gailhard smiled a little, "I know you don't want to hear this, but Erik think of your wife what would she want. She would want you to look after and care for Celeste. You are her father, love her!"

"She can survive?"

"Love her and she will. She's a fighter, like her Papa"

Poor Erik. His parents had been so loveless towards him that he had no idea how to love his own child. He had no concept of fatherly love because he had never known it himself.

"When your wife was still alive, but after Celeste was born, how did you feel?"

"I'd never been happier"

"Exactly. The only thing that has changed is that your wife is not here in flesh and blood. But she is in Celeste"

Erik thought for a while. He knew Gailhard was right. He did love the child cradled in his arms, he loved her very much, and he needed her to live. He wanted her to live!

"My poor daughter!" Erik finally sobbed. Gailhard couldn't help feel that he had at least half achieved his goal. With a little help, Erik and Celeste might just be saved. He could love her.

He would love her…

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_FEEDBACK please! I'm not sure if I like this, so let me know what you think! L x_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N right then guys. This is it. I really am moving on to 'Unrequited'. But I thought I would Erik just a little change to redeem himself. And to throw up some questions because hey, I like confusing people. Much love goes to my lovely readers (aka you guys) and special thanks to Erik's other lover and slinko, who where kind enough to review. Short chapter alert! X_

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Erik stood very still, not quite sure what to do with himself. His child lay silently in his arms. She was so cold she could have been dead. But he could still feel her chest move against his with her breathing.

She was breathing.

The thought made relief glow through his body.

And suddenly he realised that he didn't want her to die. He wanted her to fight, to live, because although he had absolutely no idea how to live with her, he finally realised he couldn't live without her…

Gailhard was right, again.

He went to the organ and sat down on the bench, his back leading against the closed instrument, supporting his daughter. She was so light!

His wife got ill from standing outside in the rain. It was such a stupid realisation, but one that needed to be made. God only knows what she had been doing; Erik knew she had been lying about where she was. But she was so wet he didn't care; he was more concerned with getting her warm and dry. And of course, Celeste had been with her too, how could he have forgotten?

His wife had protested that she was fine. But her skin never got warm again and she started to cough. Pneumonia took her quickly. Too quick.

Somehow, Celeste had remained healthy the whole time. Or maybe he has been so rapped up with his wife that he hadn't noticed her steadily beginning to cough like her mother.

A single tear trailed down the tip of his nose. He didn't like confronting his inner demons. His where particularly ugly.

After his wife died he had gone into Celeste's room. It took him a while to find her, but there she was, in the corner, buried under her blankets in a way that completely cut her off from the rest of the world. The memory that she had fallen asleep cradling her violin made him smile.

But when she didn't wake up, he got worried. Her hands where ice cold, and her forehead was on fire. Just like her mother.

He had adjusted to the idea of her dying too. It looked likely; she had identical symptoms as her mother, and look what happened…

Persia was beckoning.

But then Gailhard gave him hope. And Griy, she would help.

Celeste had to live. Erik would take care of her.

I that silent moment between the two a deal was struck. She would better, she would live and in return Erik would learn to love his daughter more that life itself.

And maybe, they'd be alright.

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_A/N and that is it. This chapter, short as it may be is VITAL to 'Unrequited' hence the reason it's published. And now my dear readers, I have the honour of typing these words…_

_**The end**_

_For ten years anyway…x_


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